


Three of a Kind

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Magic, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Geralt grit his teeth and ignored the Jaskiers. “On our way here, I picked up a contract to clear out a mage's tower. The mage died—killed by a rival—and no one could get in. I passed the wards, brought down all the other protective spells so the new mage could take his place. They said I could have anything inside as payment, and before I could refuse, Jaskier runs through the door, and fucking shatters a prism. That's when this—” he jabbed a finger towards the closest Jaskier, still protecting the lute “—happened. The new mage said it should wear off in a few days, the other two will disappear.”
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 45
Kudos: 541





	Three of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for a prompt on tumblr: magic or a curse creating multiple Jaskiers so they each could have one. The prompt came from iamaqt314 on tumblr (I think QT314 on here).
> 
> I already posted it on my tumblr, but I'm putting those shorter fics up here as well. Enjoy :)

“Tell me again. One more time.” Eskel spoke slowly, clearly. Geralt must've misunderstood him the first time he asked, he enunciated his words this time, so there could be no mistake.

Geralt stood in front of him, with all of them gathered in the dining hall of Kaer Morhen, tired from his trip up the mountain, tired in more ways than one. Lambert stood next to Eskel, hand over his mouth to contain his laughter. And between them all, chasing each other around the cavernous space, were three, _three_ Jaskiers. At the moment, two were fighting over the bard's lute.

“Give it back!” one snarled.

“No!” This Jaskier climbed on top of the table, right behind Geralt, like that would offer protection. “It's mine, thief! You don't fool me, you're some sort of doppler after the Elf King's lute!”

“They're not dopplers, I told you,” Geralt called over his shoulder. “It's a spell. Five fucking days of this!”

“What's the spell?” Eskel tried again. They got as far as “spell” before a Jaskier fight broke out and distracted Geralt.

Geralt grit his teeth and ignored the Jaskiers. “On our way here, I picked up a contract to clear out a mage's tower. The mage died—killed by a rival—and no one could get in. I passed the wards, brought down all the other protective spells so the new mage could take his place.”

“Aretuza's quick,” Lambert said.

Geralt gnashed his teeth at the young Witcher. “Shut up! They said I could have anything inside as payment, and before I could refuse, Jaskier runs through the door, and fucking shatters a prism. That's when this—” he jabbed a finger towards the closest Jaskier, still protecting the lute “—happened. The new mage said it should wear off in a few days, the other two will disappear.”

“Did you think about killing the spares?” Lambert asked.

The Jaskier with the lute gasped in horror. “Fucking serious? You'd just have him kill me? Not knowing which one is the real me?”

Eskel's eyes darted between the three—the two arguing, and one standing quietly at Geralt's side—and he couldn't find any obvious differences visually. Temperament seemed to set them apart, but not much else. “Which one is real?”

“I am,” three Jaskiers said at once.

Geralt jabbed a thumb behind him. “The one with the lute.”

“How can you tell?”

With a sigh that sounded like he'd done this a hundred times already, Geralt turned and pulled that Jaskier off the table, pushing the grabby thief away. Cupping his jaw, he turned Jaskier's face towards Eskel, exposing the bright red love bite on his neck. “Marked this one to keep track.”

The thief and the quiet one both scowled up at Geralt. “Why haven't you touched us like that?” the formerly quiet Jaskier pouted. “We've been together for days, not so much as a glance!”

“Because he knows you're not real!” Jaskier—the _real_ Jaskier—snapped.

“Wait,” Lambert said, eyeing the thief Jaskier with a new light in his eyes. “You've had three bards for almost a week and haven't fucked them?”

Geralt rubbed a hand through his hair, the dark circles under his eyes suddenly obvious. Not sleeping or meditating, then. “One Jaskier is exhausting enough without having to climb this damn mountain for winter. You expect me to have the energy to fuck them all?” Like that was the problem in this situation. In the height of summer, when food was plentiful and Jaskier's songs brought in more coin to keep them fed, yes, Geralt had the energy to satisfy all night. Summer was the time for Jaskier to accidentally duplicate himself, not the beginning of winter, when Geralt was tired from the year and ready for some well earned rest. On his best day, Jaskier was far from restful.

Lambert bit his lip. “Well... can I fuck one?”

Eskel didn't know who was more upset, Jaskier, or the other Jaskiers. The real Jaskier (he thought) sputtered a little. “That is not the way to proposition me! I mean, yes, fine, Geralt and I talked about it. I was going to bring it up this winter, but a problem arose, and—”

“Which one do you want?” Geralt asked.

Five days ago, they were so close to Kaer Morhen. One last job to get them enough to buy supplies for the trek, an easy job, a safe job: break into the mage's tower dear Witcher, you're probably immune to whatever spells he cast to keep people out... Then Jaskier had to cock it all up. The original seemed repentant enough and the new mage said it should wear off “in a few days.” Geralt should have gotten a better estimate. The trip up the mountain with three needy bards was too much, he was ready to snap. He hoped Vesemir had some idea of what to do, but Vesemir wasn't here. He went for a supply run, leaving Lambert and Eskel as his only options for council. So fine, Lambert wanted to fuck one of the spares? Geralt was more than alright with that.

Lambert's eyes darted between the two copy Jaskiers and landed on the thief again. He stepped in close, one hand sliding to the not-bard's hip. He paused for a second, scenting the man, he smelled like the real Jaskier, no creature or doppler to be found, so it truly was a spell. “What do you say, song bird?” Lambert purred. “Want to climb on and take me for a ride?”

This Jaskier seemed to have forgotten all about the elven lute he desired not five minutes ago. He preened a bit under Lambert's gaze, fluttering his eyelashes. “That's the nicest offer I've ever heard.” He let Lambert grab him by the hips and pull them out of the dining hall.

The real Jaskier growled a little as they left. “It's the only offer you've ever heard! Impostor!” But they were already gone, half way up the stairs to Lambert's room.

“Shut up.” Geralt hooked Jaskier around the bicep and dragged him away. “Eskel, you can have the last one!” While part of Geralt felt bad for leaving the—essentially brand new—man for Eskel to deal with, the larger part of him did not care. He was tired, and cranky, looking forward to a long nap with Jaskier cuddled up against him. The remaining one was quiet, anyway, he'd get along well with Eskel.

Once they were out of the dining hall, he pulled Jaskier close, lips brushing his ear. “Please, let's sleep for a while. I'll do wicked things to you when I wake and then we'll deal with the others... but sleep first.”

Away from the impostors, Jaskier softened and leaned into Geralt's shoulder. “Yes, you need your rest. I'm sorry this has been so hard on you...”

Back in the dining hall, Eskel stood with the last Jaskier... another copy, apparently. Jaskier fidgeted, his eyes darting up to Eskel for a second before falling to the floor. “Can I go to the library?” he whispered. “If I'm going to die, or disappear, or what have you, I'd like it to happen in a quiet, relaxing spot.”

Eskel considered the man in front of him for a moment. With all of Geralt's complaining about Jaskier being too loud and annoying, always making noise, when Eskel first met him, he was surprised by the bard's quiet introspection. Last winter, they spent some time together sitting in the library, reading, swapping their favorite poems or books. More than once, Eskel wondered what it'd be like to kiss him...

“I'll go with you.” He bent at the waist, offering Jaskier a crooked elbow to hold. The shy man took it and they walked down the corridor towards the library.

Lambert

The second Lambert closed the door behind them, Jaskier jumped into his arms, lips and teeth exploring the skin of his neck, nibbling and sucking as they went. “I've wanted him to touch me for days,” he panted, fingers unlacing Lambert's breeches. Lambert hadn't even locked the door yet. _Fuck_. “Tried to touch the others too, get them to ride Geralt with me... they just wanted to climb the stupid mountain.”

“Mmm, I got a mountain you can climb.” Lambert shifted Jaskier in his arms and pressed his rock hard cock into his ass.

Jaskier growled into his neck. “Yes, fuck, give it to me.”

Lambert wasn't the type to turn down a kind invitation. Kicking off his boots, he walked them over to the bed and threw Jaskier down. Jaskier already did a lot to get Lambert naked, only his breeches remaining, which he quickly shucked off. Skin to the wind, he lay down on top of Jaskier, covering him from head to toe, those pretty pink lips finding his.

There was a bit of a struggle for position (Lambert let it go on a little longer than necessary, Jaskier's creamy skin sliding over his was too good) and Jaskier managed to get Lambert on his back. “Oil's in the drawer,” Lambert said before Jaskier had a chance to ask.

The sight of Jaskier—even a copy of Jaskier—opening the vial of oil with his teeth, then reaching back to prepare himself, was the hottest thing Lambert had ever seen, and he'd seen some shit. A slick hand fumbled for his cock and Lambert had a split second to find something to grab on to before Jaskier was _there_ , on him surrounding him. His hands fell to Jaskier's hips and he threw his head back, letting the psychotically horny bard drive their pleasure.

In the back of his mind, Lambert thought about what possible spell brought him to this amazing spot, on his back with Geralt's bard riding him. He'd seen it a few times—dividing the one into distinct personality traits or concentrations of different moods. Some mages used such spells to gain perspective on a difficult project. From what he saw of the others in the dining hall, this was definitely a personality divide situation. Lambert was just happy he got the horny one.

Eskel

As soon as he opened the library doors, the shy Jaskier ran inside and over to the shelves on the west wall, they held real Jaskier's favorite collections of poetry, his comfort books he once called them. Selecting a few volumes, this Jaskier curled into one of the plush couches, balancing the large book on his lap.

Eskel sat down at the other end of the couch, watching. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

Jaskier's eyes flicked up from his reading. He sighed and closed the book, keeping it on his lap in case the chance to read came up later. “Go ahead.”

“The spell,” Eskel began. “It separates personality traits?”

“As far as I can tell. The others are too boisterous. The trip here was terrible, one of them kept trying to have sex with me. I wasn't opposed, but I wanted Geralt involved... and he wasn't interested, so I wasn't interested.” He drew his legs in closer. “I remembered the library and that's all I wanted to see, before the spell ends.”

“You have all your memories? You remember being here before?”

A small nod. “Yes, last winter. You sat and read poetry with me.”

Eskel smiled a little. He was trying to get information, but had to admit, this quiet Jaskier was sweet. Yes, the real Jaskier acted like this from time to time, seeing it all concentrated made it so much sweeter. “I think we read from that book.” He pointed to the book in Jaskier's lap. “Do you want to read it with me again? I read one, you read one...”

Jaskier bit his lip, then nodded, handing the book over. “You can start.”

Eskel flipped a few pages until he found one of Jaskier's favorites, a beautiful romantic poem with evocative imagery. They read it together last year and Eskel felt a little guilty making literary moves on Geralt's bard. Geralt dismissed it, “If he wants you, he wants you. Not like we haven't had sex before.” Oh, what a thought, Geralt and Jaskier both...

He cleared his throat and started to read, watching Jaskier watch him. Those too blue eyes softened at each lovely word, his lips parting a little. At one point, he moved closer, it almost looked unconscious. When Eskel handed the book back, he moved closer as well. This happened every time they exchanged the book until Jaskier's knees brushed Eskel's.

Their fingers touched when Jaskier handed him the book, and Eskel lingered there, softly touching. “Jaskier,” he whispered. “Can I kiss you?”

For a moment, Jaskier said nothing. He shifted on the couch and Eskel thought he was going to leave, instead, he set his books safely on one of the study tables before crowding towards Eskel again, his lips a breath away. “Yes,” he said. “You can kiss me.”

Threading his fingers in Jaskier's hair, Eskel pulled their lips together. The kiss was soft and sweet and he never wanted it to end. Jaskier tried to climb into his lap and Eskel leaned back, pulling the bard with him. Sprawled across his chest, Jaskier gently pressed his tongue against Eskel's bottom lip. He opened his mouth and let Jaskier explore, tasting him. He slid his hands under Jaskier's breeches and gripped his ass, grinding their cocks together but not pushing for more. Jaskier's soft lips were more than enough.

Fuck, Eskel felt like a kid again, him and Geralt hiding in one of the emptier broom closest, hands tangled in each other's hair, tongues in each other's mouths. Eskel licked under Jaskier's top lip and he moaned, kissing deeper, their books forgotten.

Geralt

When they were free of the others, Jaskier became the picture of care. He opened the door to Geralt's room and herded the Witcher inside, cooing as he helped him out of his clothes. “Oh, you look so tired. A good sleep is what you need.”

“What I need,” Geralt fell into the bed, “is only one bard in this keep.”

“You heard the mage.” Jaskier shimmied out of his clothes and climbed into bed with Geralt, curling around him like a cat. “It'll wear off in a few days. It's already been five days, so it can't last much longer.”

Now that he had Geralt to himself, Jaskier quietly doted on him, smoothing his hair, making sure he had enough blanket and was comfortable. Geralt was so tired, he'd fall asleep on the back of his horse. “Stop fussing,” he mumbled, eyes already closed. “Be still so I can sleep.”

For once, Jaskier did as he was asked, but not before throwing a possessive arm across Geralt's barrel of a chest. He hooked an arm around Jaskier's hips and pulled him close, falling into a well deserved sleep.

Lambert's groan of frustration woke Geralt a few hours later. “Fuck, why did it have to end now?” Their rooms were separated by more than a few walls, and Geralt still heard him. Witcher hearing sucked sometimes.

He nudged Jaskier. “How do you feel?” If Lambert's laments were anything to go by, the other personality Jaskiers had disappeared, meaning the real Jaskier should be back to normal...

Jaskier blinked, moving his arms and legs under the covers, testing himself. “I feel fine. I don't know if I'd describe it as normal.”

Geralt thought back over the last few days, this Jaskier constantly touching him, sitting in his lap, glaring at the others if they tried to come near... “Do you still want to rip your own head off for trying to touch me?”

“Oh, uh, no. I don't.” A furious blush filled Jaskier's cheeks. “I'm really sorry, Geralt. I know that probably made it worse, but I couldn't help it, watching myself touch you but not feeling you.” He buried his face in Geralt's chest. “Can you forgive me?”

Geralt suspected a personality divide aspect of the spell as soon as each Jaskier opened his mouth. He was too tired to investigate, but one was grabby and horny, another sweet but possessive, and the third a little pensive and subdued, all traits he'd seen from Jaskier. Divided up like that, they were annoying and Geralt almost wanted to ditch them all in the woods, but together—in their natural state—it made Jaskier sweet and caring, the amazing man Geralt truly wanted at his side.

He pulled Jaskier in close and kissed him. “Yes, of course. Spells make people do strange things.”

He spent another moment kissing Jaskier, touching him, running his hands over familiar skin, through the dips and bumps of his body. The last week was harder than Geralt cared to admit. He had to focus on getting them all to Kaer Morhen safely with the extra mouths to feed. He didn't have a single second to spare a thought to Jaskier's state of mind. Well, he had all the time in the world now, and he planned to spoil his bard rotten this winter.

There was a knock on the door and Lambert opened it, Eskel lingering right behind him. Eskel's face was flushed, the laces on his shirt coming undone. Lambert was another story entirely: chest and feet bare, breeches open, half hard cock glistening with sweat and spend hanging out for all to see, and familiar bites and scratches marking his chest. His eyes traced over Jaskier before flicking to Geralt.

“Ever have someone disappear on your cock? Not fun.” Lambert licked his lips and nodded towards Jaskier. “You said you and Geralt talked about us? Wanted to discuss it? Let's discuss.”

Neither Witcher entered the room at first, giving Jaskier a minute to check Geralt's expression. They did discuss it, months ago, when Jaskier was drunk and horny, and yes, the idea of Lambert and Eskel was appealing (honestly, anyone with eyes saw how delicious they all were, Witchers were too beautiful for their own good) but the reality standing at the door was... intimidating. But there was definitely an attraction in that.

Jaskier arched an eyebrow at Geralt and received a nod in return. “Alright,” he said, sitting up in the bed. “Please gentlemen, let us discuss...”

Jaskier was pleased to say, the rest of winter passed quite nicely.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The spell separated personality traits: lack of inhibitions (the one Lambert got); quiet and measured (Eskel); and protective and loving (Geralt).


End file.
